Catching up to you
by Nhylin
Summary: It has been four years since Mary last saw her two friends, and she is having difficulty accepting the changes time has wrought in them. Attempting to live her childhood dream anyway, she might cause everyone a lot more grief than she ever intended. M/C


Hello :o)

As I tried to mention in my brief summary, hinting at it with an 'M/C' because I ran out of space, this story will be a Mary/Colin story, and not a one-sided one either. If that bothers you, or makes you uncomfortable and squeamish, then that's ok. I just want to say it now, because I'd like to avoid reviews telling me I'm a sick pervert, because I'm not. In Europe, cousin marriage is completely legal, it always has been, and at the time of Mary and Colin, it was even encouraged. I'll therefore ask you to be open minded about these cultural differences.

Otherwise, you are welcome to criticise my story and writing in any way you like of course. :o)

That said, this is based on the book, I've never watched the films so whatever the films might have changed will not be included.

Chapter 1

The bigger the hope...

* * *

It was a bright sunny afternoon at the beginning of July, that found 16 year old Mary Lennox sitting in a stuffy carriage on the beautiful grounds of one of the most prestigious all boys' boarding schools in England. The scenery, had it been observed by an impartial eye, would have without a doubt been described as breathtaking. On a fine day such as this, where the weather was clear, you could see all the way down the green hills to a lake that seemed to be as blue as the cloudless sky itself. Birds were chirping in the nearby trees and lush flowers could be admired, growing in tidy, well kept flowerbeds on each side of the cobble stone road that led up to the stately old school building.

Mary wasn't sure she liked it though. Too much of the serene exterior reminded her of a similar institution further south, where she herself had spent the greater part of the past four years, before she had finally been allowed to return home two weeks ago. Everything was much too tidy in her opinion. So tidy in fact, that even the intricate iron fences behind the flowerbeds, which kept unwelcome visitors off the school grounds, seemed to hint at the strictness, the sternness, and the without a doubt rigorous protocol awaiting the students once they passed over the school's threshold and into it's time-honoured halls. It was this unique feeling that had always inspired a sense of awe in her at her own school, but had also made her feel like she was going to suffocate many a time.

Today however, she felt like she was going to suffocate for completely different reasons.

Barely able to keep from groaning out loud, Mary extracted a small, lacy handkerchief from her silken handbag, carefully dabbing sweat from her brow. She would endure this. She had to endure this. She had brought it upon herself, fool that she was, and not under any circumstance was she going to admit how uncomfortable she was to anyone. She briefly wondered, what she had been thinking when she had decided upon what to wear for the occasion, but nothing safe for a vague memory of wishing to be recognized as a grown up lady came to mind. For the first time in her life she had even bothered to put on some light make-up this morning; make-up that was probably all smudged and smeared by now considering how sweaty her forehead was becoming.

Leaning forward to glance out of the carriage window, she used her handkerchief to fan herself. She could see the air flirring in the midday heat above smooth black pavement stones and her gaze wandered up to the heavy looking, high oak doors of the school building. How she wished her uncle and cousin would finally step outside! Oblivious to her silent plea however, the doors with their ornate carvings remained closed and unmoving.

She sighed and leaned back again, touching her forehead with the back of her hand, closing her eyes. She was starting to feel dizzy.

The relentless heat reminded her of India almost. The colours and the smell had faded from her memories more and more over the years, the voices in the bungalows and servant huts growing ever quieter, but the heat and the humidity, both things she had never been able to handle well, she remembered vividly. She also remembered her mother, standing on their veranda, wearing beautiful dresses made of silk and lace. Mary didn't think the beautiful Mem Sahib had ever looked sweaty, not the way she herself did now. Her mother had been above such mundane things, as untouchable by the sweltering heat as she had been for her daughter.

Mary couldn't associate many good things with these memories, and accordingly, the beautiful corseted dress she had chosen to wear, a dress that was very similar to one her mother had once worn, was causing her nothing but suffering. She wasn't her mother, she'd never be. She'd always look awkward and ordinary even in such fine clothes, no matter how hard she tried to be something more. In that respect she probably had a lot more in common with plain, red faced Mrs Medlock, who didn't look good in anything either, than with her own mother.

In her helplessness and frustration, she was starting to feel irrationally angry at her uncle and cousin for taking so long. She understood of course, that a girl in an all boys' school would without a doubt be considered improper and attract a lot of curiosity and stares, but couldn't they have made an exception just this once? She had tried everything to be able to breathe normally. Tried to sit up as straight as she possibly could, leaned out of the window slightly, even pulled on the sewn in corset of her dress at one point, hoping it would loosen it somewhat. It had all been in vain. She was going to suffocate any minute now, she was certain. It couldn't be long now, before the short 16 years of her life flashed before her eyes, as one of her teachers had said they did for many people in their last moments on this world.

It would be an ironic end for her she mused. While she had liked to admire her beautiful mother from afar as a child, she herself had never cared much for fashion. Running about on the Yorkshire moors barefoot, had always been much preferable in her opinion, to this self-inflicted form of torture that many young women her age seemed to be so fond of engaging in. 'Unladylike' as it may be for someone of her standing.

It had been an hour now at the very least, Mary guessed, since her uncle had told her to wait in the carriage, while he went inside to pick up her cousin Colin. It was the end of the school year and few people seemed to be left at the school, so what could possibly be keeping them?

Had Colin failed his exams?

Mary almost laughed out loud at the thought. No, he couldn't have. She had not seen him in almost 4 years, but judging by his letters, he was still rather too clever for his own good. If there was someone she couldn't envision failing his exams, unless it was on purpose or to prove some kind of point, it was her cousin.

Smiling at the thought, Mary was snapped out of her musings when she finally _did_ hear voices and footsteps approaching. Inwardly she was thanking any and every deity she had ever heard of, and outwardly she tried her best to composer herself, when she could immediately identify one of those voices as that of her uncle Archie, though he sounded rather more agitated than he usually did.

"…could have written and warned me at the very least." Mary heard him say as the two drew nearer and then stopped a few steps from the carriage. "What was I supposed to say when Mr _Aynesworth_ asked me to come to his office, stating that you must have informed me of the matter by now?" Archibald Craven asked; the barely contained anger in his voice unmistakable. "I mean it, Colin! _What_ in God's name were you _thinking_?"

"I'm not sure," was the rather quiet reply that followed after a moment's hesitation.

That second voice, Mary knew to be her cousin's, though it sounded different from what she remembered. For one thing, 'quiet' had never been an adjective she would have associated with him. His mood was usually one of a select few extremes - over the moon or down the dumps. It wasn't just that however. His voice was deeper now, and while still recognizable, disturbingly unfamiliar. She intellectually knew of course, that it was only to be expected after all this time, but the change startled her anyway. Somehow, she had always imagined Colin would stay the same; that he was exempt from such changes. When she had thought of him, in her imagination he had still been the 12 year old boy she'd last seen 4 years ago. It was a foolish thought of course, but the truth was, that while her friends at school had immediately taken an interest and curiously enquired about her cousin again and again, upon hearing that she had one, Mary herself had never taken the same kind of interest in the matter.

"I suppose I trusted in your improvisational skills?" She now heard Colin suggest in that same quiet but now slightly disinterested sounding voice he'd used before, making her gasp and clasp a hand over her mouth. If her uncle's tone had made one thing very clear, it was that he wouldn't tolerate witty comebacks right now. She briefly wondered if the next thing she'd hear was a slap, since most fathers certainly wouldn't allow this kind of cheek. Her uncle wasn't most fathers of course, since he had never ceased to feel guilty for all but abandoning his son for ten long years, but Mary didn't think it meant he'd let him get away with everything either.

"I'm sorry, I didn't…" Colin began, probably after coming to a similar conclusion, but his father cut him off.

"Let me make an educated guess; you weren't thinking. Indeed. Not _thinking _seems to have become a rather unfavourable habit of yours, taking into consideration the sheer number of letters about this kind of conduct I have received in the past, wouldn't you agree?" Archibald Craven said, his voice now carefully controlled and devoid of all emotion, making it worse than any slap could have been in Mary's opinion. "Though, used as I may be to such slights to your personality by now Colin, I must say you never cease to surprise me..."

Her uncle trailed off and another silence ensued, hinting at more to come and causing Mary to shift uncomfortably in her seat. She really didn't want to hear this.

"Because you see, MrAynesworth also implied," Mr Craven continued relentlessly, his voice rising, completely oblivious to his niece's ever increasing distress "that maybe I was as of yet unaware of your, as he so nicely put it '_general disregard for rules and overall tendency to disrespect figures of authority_'."

Mary wished she could just vanish.

This was the kind of thing that made you want to close your eyes and cover your ears like a small child, pretending you're elsewhere and that therefore no one else can see you either.

Sinking lower into the carriage seat, she really did close her eyes for a moment wondering if it was over, or if her uncle was merely expecting an answer he did not seem likely to get.

This was not how she had wanted this important day to turn out. How she had looked forward to it! For months now she had tried to imagine what it would be like when they were all together again, Dickon, Colin and her, but also her uncle, cousin and her as a family. The two were the closest thing to a family Mary had ever had. The mere thought of their imminent reunion had been enough to make her smile happily to herself. She had a tendency to react stoical and indifferent, when things didn't turn out the way she'd hoped they would, but in her heart, anything that so much as potentially threatened the ideal image she had of what her small family should be like caused her a lot of anxiety.

She didn't understand why this was happening. Why did it all have to go wrong now? Why did both of them behave so out of character, and why, had they chosen today of all days as the day to behave that way? Sorting through her memories, she could not remember a single similar incident.

Sure, something upsetting had obviously taken place, but just as his father didn't normally get angry at Colin, Colin had always been very careful not to anger his father. It had annoyed Mary on more than one occasion in the past, when she had been forced to listen to him apologise over and over again for the most trivial of things. He had been too afraid that his father might not forgive him and go away again. An irrational fear, Mary was certain, but a fear she could nonetheless empathise with to a certain degree given their history.

Today of all days though, the same boy seemed to be hell-bend on doing everything he could to make the situation worse and just listened to his father's accusations without uttering a single word in self-defence.

"Don't just stand there looking thunder-struck!" Mr Craven finally shouted rather aggressively, causing Mary to flinch and wince. "Pick up your bags and get into the carriage already, we don't have all day!"

It was her uncle who climbed into the carriage first, slamming the door with enough force to make the whole vehicle tremble momentarily as he did so. She didn't dare look at him. She was bright red in the face, she knew, both from the heat and from embarrassment. She could see him hesitate and then give a jerky nod in her direction out of the corner of her eye. She mirrored the gesture quickly and stiffly, attempting a smile that probably came out every bit as forced as it felt though, and immediately stared down at her hands again in great concentration. He had most likely forgotten that she was there, waiting inside the carriage, listening to every word that was being said between father and son. Confirming her suspicion, Archibald Craven cleared his throat loudly and uncomfortably, brushing non-existent dust from his trousers before folding his arms over his chest and looking out of the window.

The carriage then gave a small jerk again, followed by the clanking of things being placed on the top, where the luggage was being kept, before a third person climbed in.

Mary carefully glanced over at her cousin, meaning to say something in a way of greeting despite the overall unpleasantness of the situation. When their eyes met however, she found that not even a standard phrase would leave her lips. She could barely recognize him. Had she met him on a street somewhere, and not looked closely, she might have walked right past him. It was a disturbing thought. They had been so close. She had written of so many personal things and thoughts to him, and yet, the boy in front of her now seemed like a complete stranger.

She wished he'd say something, but his gray eyes merely widened momentarily upon seeing her and he seemed to experience a similar dilemma. Turning a rather interesting shade of intense red, distinctly reminiscent of Dickon's hair he finally mumbled "I'm sorry to have made you wait." in, what Mary thought, was a yet again very uncharacteristic and now also uncertain fashion. She found herself nodding dumbly in response. She wasn't sure whether his own uncertainty made her feel better or worse, she just knew that she wished for the second time that day to be far, far away.

It wasn't until Mr Craven shouted for the carriage to head off towards the train station that she was able to snap out of her stupor and managed a tentative attempt at conversation. Leaning forward slightly, hoping against all hope that she didn't look as horrible as she felt, she said, "Well, waiting wasn't all that bad I suppose. I was able to listen in on some very interesting conversations that I might have otherwise missed."

The conversation of course hadn't been interesting in any usual sense of the word. She would have done almost anything to make it so it never happened, but she couldn't very well say that.

"Glad I could be of service." Colin replied, something close to a smile forming on his face, and Mary wondered if he indeed saw some humour in the situation, or was simply hiding his real thoughts with fake cheerfulness the way she herself had done. Staring into his eyes she found that she couldn't tell. Mr Craven, who had noticed the small joke as well however, spared her any further trouble and gave his offspring a particularly stern look, causing Colin to take a sudden interest in the light blue window curtains.

The rest of the carriage ride to the train station was spent without anyone uttering a single word afterwards. Both father and son were looking pointedly away from one another, and the deafening silence was rapidly becoming overbearing. Mary wondered what the fight had been about, shifting miserably in her seat, and looking from her uncle to her cousin and back again. Was it something so serious, that they couldn't even have a normal conversation now? Even if it was the trivial 'how have you been doing' kind of small talk?

She unsuccessfully tried to catch her cousin's eye again, but if Colin noticed it, he didn't show it, and so Mary gave up, gazing out of the window too. Things were going downhill fast, and she realised, that it had nothing at all to do with high expectations on her part.

* * *

And that's it, for now.

Like it, don't like it? Is the whole idea stupid and overused, the characters too OOC for you to bear, or my english horrible enough to make your glasses fog up? Tell me in a review. :o)

The trainstation scene that follows was originally part of the first chapter so I'm not sure if the ending here seems to be too abrupt. I have this story all written out already, it just needs quite a bit of editing, since I initially wrote it for my own amusement only. To practise english in an entertaining way, not to upload it anywhere. The underlying mood of the two parts is very different though, so I thought I'd better split it into two seperate chapters... Ah, well, I guess it's too late now anyway. :o)

Til next week, maybe...if you want to.


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